A Different Life: Lies
by Xartimus
Summary: Hi, this is my first fan fiction, so please bear with me. This is a what if story about Will lying to Chubb about stealing the cakes. Halt has said that he would not have taken Will on as an apprentice if this were the case, so... This is the first story in a series of what ifs that I am planning to write. Also, a warning: The ending will be quite dark.
1. Chapter 1: Embarassing Moments

A/N: Hello, this is my first time writing fanfiction, and would love to improve, so please give harsh reviews and suggestions. I would ask that you would refrain from swearing and insults without any suggestions on how to improve. I would also be glad for any advice for writing fanfiction in general.

Thank you! Xartimus.

As this is my first story, I decided to make it a 'what if'. This takes place in the Ranger's Apprentice Series. What if Will hadn't confessed to Master Chubb for stealing the cakes? It says in the book that Halt would not have taken Will on as an apprentice if he had lied about this. I will start by quoting the story for a while in order to get the background. I am starting in chapter 4 and the texts from the book will be bolded.

No chapter name for now.

"**Will? Will who?" Martin asked in exasperation, flicking through the sheets of paper with the candidates' details written on them. He had only been the Baron's secretary for five years and so knew nothing of Will's history. He realized now that there was no family name on the boy's papers and, assuming he had let this mistake slip past, he was annoyed at himself.**

"**What's your family name, boy?" he asked severely. Will looked at him, hesitating, hating this moment.**

"**I.. don't have…," he began, but mercifully the Baron interceded.**

"**Will is a special case, Martin," he said quietly, his look telling the secretary to let the matter go. He turned to Will, smiling encouragement. **

"**What school did you wish to apply for, Will?" he asked.**

"**Battleschool, please, my lord," Will replied, trying to sound confident in his choice. The Baron allowed a frown to crease his forehead and Will felt his hopes sinking.**

"**Battleschool, Will? You don't think you're… a little on the small side?" the Baron asked gently. Will bit his lip. He had all but convinced himself that if he wanted this badly enough, if he believed in himself strongly enough, he would be accepted—in spite of his obvious shortcomings.**

"**I haven't had my growing spurt yet, sir," he said desperately. "Everybody says that." **

**The Baron rubbed his bearded chin with thumb and forefinger as he considered the boy before him. He glanced to his Battlemaster.**

** "Rodney?" he said.**

** The tall knight stepped forward, studied Will for a moment or two, then slowly shook his head.**

** "I'm afraid he's too small, my lord," he said. Will felt a cold hand clutch his heart.**

** "I'm stronger than I look, sir," he said. But the Battlemaster was unswayed by the plea. He glanced at the Baron, obviously not enjoying the situation, and shook his head.**

** "Any second choice, Will?" the Baron asked. His voice was gentle, even concerned.**

** Will hesitated for a long moment. He had never considered any other selection.**

** "Horseschool, sir?" he asked finally.**

** Horsechool trained and cared for the mighty battlehorses that the castle's knights rode. It was at least a link to Battleschool, Will thought. But Ulf, the Horsemaster, was shaking his head already, even before the Baron asked his opinion.**

** "I need apprentices, my lord," He said, "but this one's too small. He'd never control one of my battlehorses. They'd stomp him into the ground as soon as look at him."**

** Will could only see the Baron through a watery blur now. He fought desperately to keep the tears from sliding down his cheeks. That would be the ultimate humiliation: to be rejected from Battleschool and then to break down and cry like a baby in front of the Baron, all the Craftmasters and his wardmates. **

** "What skills do you have, Will?" the Baron was asking him.**

** Will rackexd his brain. He wasn't good at lessons and languages, as Alyss was. He couldn't form neat, perfect letters, the way Gworge did. Nor did he have Jennt's interest in cooking.**

** And he certainly didn't have Horace's muscles and strength.**

** "I'm a good climber, sir" he said finally, seeing that the Baron was waiting for him to say something. It was a mistake, he realized instantly. Chubb, the cook, glared at him angrily.**

** "He can climb alright. I remember when he climbed up a drainpipe into my kitchen and stole a tray of sweetcakes that were cooling on the windowsill."**

** Will's jaw dropped with the unfairness of it all. That had been two years ago! He was a child then and it was a mere childish prank, he wanted to say. But now the Scribemaster was talking too. **

** "And just this last spring he climbed up to our third-floor study and turned two rabbits loose during one of our legal debates. Most disruptive. Absolutely!"**

** "Rabbits, you say, Scribemaster?" said the Baron, and Nigel nodded emphatically.**

** "A male and a female rabbit, my lord, if you take my meaning?" he replied. "Most disruptive indeed!"**

** Unseen by Will, the very serious Lady Pauline put one elegant hand in front of her mouth. She might have been concealing a yawn. But when she removed the hand, the corners of her mouth were slightly up tilted still. **

** "Well, yes," said the Baron. "We all know how rabbits are."**

** "And as I said, my lord, it was **_**spring**_**," Nigel went on, in case the Baron had missed the point. Lady Pauline gave vent to a unladylike cough. The Baron looked in her direction, in some surprise.**

** "I think we get the picture, Scribemaster," he said, then returned his gaze to the desperate figure who stood in front of him. Will kept his chin up and stared straight ahead. The Baron felt for the young lad in that moment. He could see tears welling up in those lively brown eyes, held back only by an infinite determination. Willpower, he thought abstractedly, recognizing the play on the boy's name. He didn't enjoy putting the boy through all this, but it had to be done. He sighed inwardly.**

** "Is there any one of you who could use this boy?" he said.**

** "Despite himself, Will allowed his head to turn and gaze pleadingly at the line of Craftmasters, praying that one of them would relent and accept him. One by one, silently, they shook their heads.**

(A/N: I am going to skip a few paragraphs, as they include Halt giving the Baron a letter stating he would take Will as an apprentice)

**He realized that there was movement around him and the Baron was speaking to the other people in the room.**

"**Congratulations to those who were selected here today. It's a big day for all of you, so you're free to have the rest of the day off and enjoy yourselves. The kitchens will provide a banquet for you in your quarters and to the rest of the day you have free run of the castle and the village.**

"**Tomorrow, you'll report to your new Craftmasters first thing in the morning. And if you'll take a tip from me, you'll make sure you're on time." He smiled at the other four, then addressed Will, with a hint on sympathy in his voice.**

"**Will, I'll let you know tomorrow what I've decided about you." He turned to Martin and gestured for him to show the new apprentices out. "Thank you, everyone," he said, and left the room through the door behind his desk.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Gathering

**A/N: Hi everyone! I have decided to change the storyline a little. Each chapter will be about a possible consequence or change that comes from Will lying to Chubb. I decided that writing about Will's everyday life would not be very interesting if he is not a Ranger's Apprentice.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story with the exception of a few OCs, which have not appeared yet.**

* * *

_Fast forward a few months; Will is a silversmith apprentice, and he has met up with Jenny, George and Alyss for the Harvest Day gathering, and Horace walks in, only to see them already eating Jenny's pies. (Chapter 16 in the book) I will quote the last sentence before I pick up the story._

"You're not a warrior ye," Will told him scornfully, "You're still only an apprentice like the rest of us."

Horace whipped his head around and looked Will up and down for a moment. Measuring him, Will realized. He stood his ground defiantly and stuck his chin in the air.

Horace narrowed his eyes at Will. "Oh, look! We have the failed ward with us today!"

Will turned red with anger and shame, while the other members of the group backed away, trying to distance themselves from the two enemies. They had had experience with similar situations, and they never turned out well. Either Will would out run Horace, and disappear for the rest of the day while Horace fumed, or Horace would catch Will and beat him to a pulp, and they would have to explain to the physician what had happened. They also realized, that since they had left the Ward and set out on their own, they would have to take Will to the village physician should the latter event happen, provided they could afford his services. Secretly they were hoping that Will had gained speed during the previous months, as it would still be a relatively peaceful afternoon then.

Will did not have to say anything to Horace, the message passed clearly through his eyes. It contained anger, hot and uncontrolled, but hidden beneath that was also shame. Shame that Horace was correct. Shame that Will did not have the guts to take Horace on after all the training he had received in Battle school. Shame that he had let his father, the great knight, down.

But Horace must have seen this lesser emotion through the fury, because he was smirking. "That's right," he provoked, "you weren't even wanted anywhere in the castle, let alone Battle school." He let loosed a horrible, mocking laugh. "What ever disillusioned you to think that was even a possibility?" Horace noticed that there was a strange sort of satisfaction on getting one up on Will after being bullied for the past months. Man, it felt good to get rid of his pent up emotions. He felt slightly guilty that he was releasing this on Will instead of Jerome, Alda and Bryn, but only a fool would have gone up against the more experienced apprentices.

Unfortunately, he had pushed Will too far this time. With a strangled yell, Will dove at Horace, knocking the surprised boy to the floor and managing to get a few painful hits in before reality returned to Horace's brain. In a flurry movement, indistinguishable to the observers, Horace had Will pinned beneath him, unable to move. The fury in those small eyes surprised him. He was so used to seeing intelligence and humor in them that he loosened his grip at the new sensation.

That was all Will needed. Craning his head around, he bit the hand that was holding his right arm on the ground. As soon as that was free, Will sent a flurry of blows at Horace's face, effectively freeing his left arm as well. Although Will was not trained in any form of violence his blows had a devastating amount of force behind them, fueled by Horace's comments. He had used that same general idea for teasing Will before, but after the Choosing Day, Will was certain he had let his father down, and he hated Horace for reminding him.

Horace was now backing away from Will's erratic movements, occasionally dodging a blow here and there, (Will's aim was not particularly good) while the other ward mates looked on, eyes wide in horror. George was spouting words, in an attempt to break up the fight, but they fell on deaf ears. Will was too angry to notice anything but the distance from his fists to Horace's face, and Horace was too busy making sure said fists did not connect with said face. In the end, it was Will's lack of strategy that did him in.

When Will put too much force into a blow that missed Horace, his body lurched in that direction. Horace stepped over and around in the opposite direction, and dealt a heavy blow to Will's head that knocked the small opponent unconscious. Horace took a deep breath and heaved it out. That had been extremely unnerving. Never before had he seen Will so out of control. He turned to the other occupants in the room.

"Well," he said awkwardly, rubbing his neck with his hand, "I guess I'd better get going." He started to walk away before turning back again and saying, "Apologize to Will for me will you? For both the comment's and the blow." During this last part, he waved his hand in the general direction of Will's limp form. Grimacing, he turned back and walked out of sight.

* * *

**Sorry if this did not make any sense, I am rather horrible at getting my thoughts out. I only hope that you pictured the same scene that I did. Please let me know of any suggestions you might have. Sorry for the lack of detail, I'm really not sure what happens in fight scenes, as I am severely lacking vocabulary in that area.**

**As for the reviews that I have received so far; first of all, thank you for taking the time to read my story and review it, and I will be responding to the reviews as well.**

**Guest: _Sorry for the confusion, I am adding more later. The first chapter was just a bit of background information for those who hadn't read the books as well as a reminder for those who have. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story._**

**Aubrey. Cortez: _Thank you, I hope you are satisfied with the direction the story is taking._**

**Savannah Silverstone: _Thank you for the advice. I will not change it during this story, as I am not quite sure what I would put in it's place, but I will make sure not to do the same thing during future stories. _**

**-Xartimus**


	3. Chapter 3: A Wild Hunt

**Hello everyone! I don't really have anything to say, as I explained everything in the last chapter. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Ranger's Apprentice, or any of the characters in this story.**

* * *

This takes place during the wild boar hunt in chapter 20. Again, I will quote the last sentence before I pick up the story. But, as he did so, his foot slipped on an icy patch in the snow and he sprawled helplessly onto his side, the long spear falling from his grasp.

Horace felt the razor sharp tusks tear into his arm as he rolled out of the way. The boar kept on charging, unable to check it's momentum immediately. The other knights automatically raced to stand in front of Horace, but were too slow. The boar had stopped and reversed it's charge, again at Horace. He felt helpless, lying there on the ground, watching the bloody tusks come nearer and feeling the vibration as the huge beast thundered towards him. In a desperate ploy, Horace rolled towards the beast before it managed to lower it's tusks. He felt one hoof hit his chest and crack a few ribs, another land on his leg, and then the first hoof knocked against his head and he saw black.

* * *

Sir Rodney cursed himself for bringing a first year apprentice on this hunt. What was he thinking? He had just reached Horace as the boar was charging over and past him. Immediately he placed himself in front of the wounded boy, should the boar choose to charge again. His concern was invalid. Apparently, the boar, satisfied that Horace would pose no more threat, was now charging the young knight that had killed the first boar. This would have been fine, had the knight's spear not still been stuck in the carcass. With nothing to defend himself with, he danced around the nearest tree, which rocked an amazing amount when it was hit by the boar.

Meanwhile, Halt was trying to get a clean shot at the boar, but the blasted bush and whackers kept getting in the way! They were running around like ants whose nest was on fire. Cursing, he tried to push Abelard through, closer to the raging beast, but, yet again, the thick-headed knights were in the way. After trying and failing at this tactic for a few minutes, Halt lost his patience. The young knight was obviously to slow to avoid the boar forever, and the constant activity on the ground was hampering his abilities. "Everyone, STOP!" Growled Halt. A few of the knight's marveled at the way his voice was so much louder than his stature, and at the ability that Halt seemed to posses that allowed him to sound like he was growling at such a high volume. A second after this thought flitted through their heads, however, they realized that Halt was trying to shoot the boar, and immediately jumped out of the way.

The arrow made a hissing noise as it streamed towards it's target. It slammed into the boar with such force, that the boar actually skidded a few feet, then again as Halt's second arrow hit, a split second after the last. Again, the knight's marveled at Halts skill.

* * *

Horace woke up, throbbing in multiple places, and with a massive headache. Vaguely he wondered if Alda, Jerome and Bryn had anything to do with his condition, before he remembered the boar hunt. He cursed and sat up, only to be on the receiving end of a sharp pain in his ribs and head. Sighing, he laid back down. Whatever had possessed him to make that stupid move? Honestly, throwing himself at the boar? He had the presence of mind to wonder about his sanity before passing out again.

He stayed in the physician's quarters for 2 weeks before he was relatively healed.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed this last chapter. I decided not to kill Horace off in this chapter, he's too interesting a character. Please read and review!**


	4. Chapter 4: One Last Fight

_A/N: Hello Everyone, sorry for the long delay, finals and PATs are coming up, and I have been trying to figure out what would be the next significant change. Those are my excuses, and again, sorry. _

_As for the rest of the Ruins of Gorlan, I decided that not much would have changed. Halt and Gilan (and possibly a third Ranger) would have set out from the extremely short gathering, and hunted the Kalkara. Gilan or the possible third Ranger would have ridden to Redmont to get reinforcements, and gotten back to the Ruins as quickly as Will had. I am also pretty certain that any Ranger would have figured out the fire arrow thing after seeing the first Kalkara turn into fireworks._

_Therefore, I have decided that the next change I will write about is the mission to Celtica in the Burning Bridge. Everything is pretty much the same except Alyss replaced Will. The Wargal's have left with their Celtican prisoners and Alyss, Horace and "Evanlyn" (or Cassandra, whichever you prefer) have decided to head back to Araluen instead of follow the Wargals. I do not believe that the trip back will be particularly exciting, so I will skip to the battle. If you have read the books recently, you will remember that this entire battle is a trap for Araluen. I hope you enjoy the last chapter in this particular fanfiction._

_Willow Treaty, and anyone else who read the previous fourth chapter and was confused when it had very little information and suddenly disappeared: Sorry, I posted the chapter then realized that the work that I put into it over the last half-hour was deleted. Needless to say, I was rather frustrated, and I apologize for the mess up. _

_Also, to answer the review that Willow Treaty posted while the fourth chapter was up: I have no idea what CAT's are, I am from Canada and PAT stands for Provincial Achievement Tests. Very much like the US has SATs (I assume that they stand for State-wide Achievement Tests or somewhat, feel free to correct me if I am wrong .__) . They are when the entire province is given the same exam so the government knows the effectiveness of each school. I hope that made sense. _

_Once again, I will type the last line before I pick up the story. _

**Chapter 30 – "Sir," said the scout hesitantly. "Sir Vincent's respects, sir, and… there appear to be Skandians behind us."**

King Duncan whirled around to see around one hundred arrowhead formations with circular shields and horned helmets. He cursed. Of course it had been a trap! How could he not have seen it?

Turning to face Morgorath's main army, he realized that they were now coming into the open. Barely restraining his panic, he turned towards the messengers. Get half of the men to turn around and face the rear. Tell everyone to assume defensive positions.

He watched anxiously as his army raced to follow his orders while their enemies came steadily closer. His men seemed to be taking this in stride, forming up with speed and precision. Shield bearers made the first line, then the spearmen, ready to thrust through the gaps. Another two such layers, and then the swordsmen. Following that were the archers, on a slightly elevated position in order to shoot over their comrades. One side of the battle held the cavalry. They would not be very effective against the massive Skandians, but were able to crush the Wargals, and Duncan intended to take every advantage of that fact.

The Skandians were drawing close to the battle line now, and half of the archers let loose their arrows. With expert timing, the Skandians raised their shields, arrows thunking harmlessly into the thick wood.

Their mistake came right after. Unable to see through the wall, they lowered them again, just in time to see a second volley already on the way. The majority of Skandians on the front line fell to this second attack, which caused a great deal of confusion in their ranks as they tripped over their companions. Immediately more started falling under the deadly hail of arrows that never seemed to stop.

This was not to last, however. As the initial confusion faded, the Skandians decided to go every man to himself, holding their shields in front of them and charging into the Araluen lines. Yet more fell to the spearmen, but they soon rid themselves of this first defense. Having lost momentum, they were fighting on more even ground, yet they still managed to take at least two Araluens with them before they fell. Most took closer to a dozen.

On the other side of the battle, the Araluens were pushing back the Wargals, mainly due to the Hammerblows maneuver that Sir David of Caraway fief had made. Nearly half of the Wargals were dead or injured and the cavalry kept taking more. It was doubtful that they would lose this half of the battle.

Seeing this, King Duncan ordered more forces be sent to the Skandian side, along with all forty-seven Rangers currently available. The results to the reinforcements were instantly recognizable. The Rangers easily pinpointed the better warriors and took each down with a single arrow. This being done, they started aiming further back in the ranks, hoping to thin out the attacking force and unwilling to shoot close to their men unless necessary.

Their expert shooting entered the gaps in the circular shields and always took down at least one Skandian. In a few cases, they even took down two. This show of marksmanship had the added bonus of making the Skandians wary, which affected their fighting. It also encouraged their own soldiers, who were now fighting with more vigor.

King Duncan surveyed the battlefield once more before deciding that he need not issue any more orders for the time being. Leaving Baron Arald in charge, he moved quickly towards his pavilion.

Upon entering, he was greeted enthusiastically by his daughter, and, more formally, by apprentice Courier Alyss Mainwaring. He hugged his daughter and nodded to Alyss.

Knowing there was not much time, he immediately broke into a hurried explanation. "Cassandra," he told her urgently, "I need you to leave. There is the chance that we will fail here today, and I do not want you to be in harms reach. You will leave immediately for Hibernia with Lady Alyss. You will not tell anyone of your identity, and you will wait there until a message is sent to you, or you receive the news that we have lost to Morgorath." He shook her shoulders lightly, desperate for the information to sink in. "You must not, under any circumstances, come back to Araluen unless you receive the message, understood?" Cassandra nodded her head. "It will help to know that I will be sending a Ranger."

Turning, he now addressed Alyss. "Go with her, and make sure she follows my instructions. Gather your things, and ride out immediately. "

As Alyss nodded and turned to follow the orders, the King called to her again.

"Oh, and Alyss," Turning to face the King once more, she raised one elegant eyebrow. "You will require this to make your way to and in Hibernia." He told her, holding out a small sack of gold.

"Yes, your highness," Alyss told him, accepting the money. "We will use it carefully." With that, she turned on her heal to usher the Princess out of the tent.

(time lapse)

Duncan stared in disbelief as he saw the Wargals pouring in from the east. Despair etched in his features, he called his men to face the new enemy. They had already defeated the other attacking parties, but these troops were fresh. They marched in a perfect, hurried rythym, chanting the unnerving battle song of the Wargals.

His men knew that it would be a miracle, should they survive this day, yet they grimly faced the new threat, determined to take ten times as many Wargals for each fallen comrade.

It did not take long for the rested troops top cut through the front lines, methodically cutting down anyone who stood in their way.

In the next hour the battle was finished and the Wargals wandered around taking any survivors to their master. They were each given a choice. Serve him or die.

Will was pushed through the fields of grass, surrounded by Wargals and other prisoners, to face the new King. Having already heard of the choice that awaited him, he pondered his answer continuously. Finally, a few scant hours from the capital, he made up his mind. He would never surrender.

Will's final action was to spit on Morgorath's boots, earning him a quick and painless execution by the hands of the King himself.

_A/N: Sorry for all of you who hate the ending, I did warn you in the summary that it would be dark. For any of you who are disappointed in the story in general, I would love to hear your suggestions. _

_Thank you for everyone who read, and double thank you for the reviewers. I am hoping to come up with more 'what if' stories for Ranger's Apprentice, so anyone who has suggestions, feel free to add them. Nothing that results in Will not becoming a Ranger, please, as it would have the same results. _

_Thank you for bearing with me through my entire first story. Also, I would love for anyone to leave suggestions on their favorite fanfictions. _


	5. Chapter 5: Halt's Revenge

_A/N: Okay! Thank you for the review, Willow Treaty. I will take some time to consider what would happen to Halt. Remember that he never received the warnings of the Skandians, and so would not be ambushing them in the forest. It might take a while to get this chapter up, as I have to imagine what happened to him. It is an interesting idea for Will, maybe I'll end up doing a bonus chapter or a different story in which that happens. I never even considered it, so thank you. _

_I hope to replace this chapter with an actual update soon._

_-Xartimus_

_Okay, consider it replaced!_

_So sorry it took so long, I really have no excuse except that I was reading other fanfiction. (for those of you who have read both Artemis Fowl and Harry Potter, karatemaster101's King of Serpents series is amazing!)_

_Anyways, getting sidetracked, but I thought that was worth being mentioned. In this chapter, I will try to explain, as best as I can, what I imagine Halt doing. _

_There will be no last line from the books, as this is completely different from the storyline, instead, there will be a last line from the last chapter so you know where in the battle I am inserting you._

_Thank you, sorry, and I hope you enjoy! _

_Disclaimer: I own nothing in this chapter, all rights go to John Flanagan._

**The Skandians were drawing close to the battle line now, and half of the archers let loose their arrows.**

All of the Ranger's waited a split second after the majority hit their targets to loose their own. Because of their extremely fast and accurate shooting, they would be keep the Skandian giants occupied between each volley with arrows of their own. Their main job, however, was to hit the Skandians that seemed the largest threats or were coming to close to their own lines for the less accurate archers to risk shooting.

Among these Rangers were two whom we know well, and I will be going into more depth using their point of view. The first is Gilan, and the second, Halt. (I might also throw in Crowley, being the Head of the Ranger Corps).

Gilan waited patiently for the archers around him to load, draw, and fire before whipping his first arrow out and searching for a target. Each of the Ranger's had their assigned areas so one Skandian did end up on the ground with fifty-two arrows sticking out of him. After all, the Rangers job was to search out the largest threat, and there seemed one Skandian in Crowley's section that would have definiatly drawn the attention of all the other Rangers.

He turned his gaze back to his own assigned section; an area around twenty feet wide and stretching straight out until the end of the Skandian line. With a quick glance he had singled out five Skandians he judged to be the largest threats. One, quite large, with three arrows sticking out of various places on his body, and seemingly unaffected by them. Another, rather ordinary looking Skandian except for the fact that he seemed to be going into a Berzerker rage. The third was small looking but moving at a far faster pace than the other Skandians, and likely to reach the Araluen line before his companions. The fourth seemed to be in some position of power, and the fifth was possibly the largest Skandian he had ever seen.

Gilan's brain processed all this information in a fraction of a second and turned towards the issue of selecting a target. He would be able to loose at least three arrows before having to shoot the small Skandian, he knew, and while the first Skandian already had three arrows sticking out of him the Berserker was going to be more of a problem. The Skandian in power was unlikely to be as much a threat either, and considering the size of the other Skandian, it would probably take at least four rapid arrows to take him down.

Having assessed the threat level of all the targets, Gilan quickly took four arrows in his hand and shot three times at the Berserker. Forehead, heart, eye. Berserker or not, he would not be making it to the Araluen line. Then he turned the fourth arrow on the small Skandian (or, _smaller_ Skandian. He was still huge). He took a second to aim before dropping him five feet from the Araluen line. The shield bearers in the front turned to flash nervous, quick smiles at their saviour before turning their gaze back to the other Skandians.

Choosing his next target, he quickly took out the large Skandian, shooting five arrows in rapid succession, through the shield line and into the massive, axe wielding, giant. Amazingly, it did not kill, him, though it did slow him down enough that he was no longer an immediate issue.

Now Gilan had to choose between the already injured Skandian and the Leader. He knew that once in battle, the Skandians hardly ever listened to their authorities, preferring just to charge in and 'hack and slash'. Therefore, taking out the authoritative Skandian was unlikely to make much difference, whereas leaving the injured Skandian could cause him to become another Berserker. Loosing another three arrows in the same sequence as his first shots, (forehead, heart, eye) the Skandian fell down to be trampled by his kinsmen.

And of course, this left only on Skandian on his current target list, which he was able to dispatch easily with a single arrow to the heart.

All of this was completed before the third volley of arrows. But now the Skandians were starting to clash into the Araluens and Gilans job now resorted to picking off the Skandians that were managing to make progress through the shield wall. He considered his job rather uninteresting after that.

Halt however, seemed to have the strongest Skandians in his section and, as a result was quickly running out of arrows while trying to keep up with the incoming waves. He had to think of something quick before the line caved. Which was a problem considering the fact that there were absolutely no resources near the Skandians except the Araluens, which he refused to use on a matter of principal. He couldn't call over any of the other Ranger's, or the other sections would start to cave. No. He had to do something completely reckless, stupid, and hopefully effective.

He would have to use his fire arrows. Luckily, the Araluen shields were all soaked in water previous to the battle, in case this tactic had to be used. It caused them to be weaker, but, since the Skandians covered their shields in pitch, it was a necessary safeguard. Halt knew that as soon as he lit his section on fire, the other Rangers would do the same in order to cause confusion among the ranks.

'_Here goes the most ridiculous maneuver in the history of war' _thought Halt grimly, before lighting his special arrow in a torch sitting next to him. _'Let's hope it works.'_

And with that he let the arrow fly right into the Skandian shields, causing the fire to leap between the Skandians. There was a brief moment of panic when a spark landed on an Araluen shield, but the precautions seemed to have held well. Looking down the line, he saw the Skandians in utter confusion as their comrades starting choking on the smoke. Halt smiled grimly at the effectiveness of the strategy.

Meanwhile Crowley was moving up and down the line of archer's lending a helping hand to any Ranger who needed it, and sending the two Ranger Apprentices to do the same.

When the fire started, however, Crowley called them back and had them fetch water from the river in case the Araluen line caught fire. Glancing towards the source of the first fire, he was unsurprised to see Halt. As fine a Ranger as Halt was, he always seemed seemed to be the first to act in any crisis, which was why they had gotten along so well right after they first met. Of course, that could also be the fact that they had the same teacher, or that they were so recklessly similar…

Snapping his mind back to the battle, he started lighting his own arrows and sending them into the fray. That should keep the Skandians at bay for another while, he thought satisfied.

The battle had just ended and Halt was cursing his bad luck. There just had to be another army, and he just had to be on the top of Morgorath's hate list. Sighing in resignation, he stumbled to his feet as one of the Wargal's pulled at the rope around his neck. Time to meet Morgorath, get taunted and die. There would be no other end to this meeting, he knew. A plan was forming in his mind to make Morgorath regret it though.

When he entered, or rather, was pulled into Morgoraths mountain throne room, he gazed around and was altogether unimpressed by the efforts made to create a regal atmosphere. In fact, it seemed more like Morgorath had simply given children some chisels and told them to have fun. He smirked.

Morgorath was unpleased with the expression on Halt's face and decided to alter it, and quickly. "So, Halt the mighty Ranger is at my feet." He taunted. " How I have looked forward to this moment." He stepped down the horridly carved steps so he was standing just in front of Halt. To his fury, he realised that the smirk was still on Halt's face, and in fact, was more pronounced than ever. "You think this is funny, do you?"

"Of course." Came the offhand reply. Halt may have been resigned to his death, but he intended to irk Morgorath as much as possible before his moment came. It served the dual purpose of skipping the torture as well.

Morgorath was taken back by the response. He puzzled in his mind what could possibly be funny in this situation to Halt, and came up with a blank. He had no idea why the other man was acting like this.

"Your… _throne room… _is quite… unique." Halt told him. "Did you make it yourself?"

Morgorath flushed. It wasn't his fault Wargals were so clumsy with their paws. And he certainly would never stoop so low as to carve his own throne room. Really, the idea! He glared at Halt.

"No? I was sure it was your handiwork. Oh well." Halt murmered. He looked Morgorath straight in the eye and quickly thought of another way to anger him. After a few moments of silence, he found his opportunity. "Well, aren't you going to go into a little power spiel where you say I am at your mercy, you'll kill everyone I love in front of me, you'll destroy Araluen and yada, yada, yada?"

Morgorath flushed once again. He was indeed about to say those exact things, yet the indifference on Halt's face caused him to rethink it. Besides he did not like being predictable. "No. You are here to die, nothing more." With that he brought his sword forward and issued the killing stroke. Halt died with a smile on his face and a laugh in his throat.

A look that haunted Morgorath's dreams as long as he lived. Trying to figure out why Halt looked like he knew something Morgorath did not, even on his deathbed. He spent many hours contemplating it during the months following the battle. Eventually it turned to days, and then weeks. He died locked up in his room, insane, and starved from his obsession. Halt had completed what he'd set out to do.

_A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter! I realize that this would be unlikely to work in real life, but I also realize that this is fiction and so anything can happen that we want it to. Besides, it paints a nice mental picture. Or I suppose a better word would be epic. Since the picture is definitely not nice…_

_Once again, thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed the story and thank you for all the reviews. Oh, and so sorry for not uploading for over a month. I believe this will be the end of this story, so goodbye and enjoy all your other reading adventures._


End file.
